


Winter at the Sylvia Beach

by elizajane



Series: 25 Ways to Kiss a Naked Man [16]
Category: Eureka (TV)
Genre: Christmas Vacation, Drabble Collection, F/F, Hotels, Not Beta Read, Winter, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:46:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28294041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizajane/pseuds/elizajane
Summary: Jo and Zoe spend a winter holiday at the Sylvia Beach Hotel in Newport, Oregon.
Relationships: Zoe Carter/Jo Lupo
Series: 25 Ways to Kiss a Naked Man [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/47206
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7
Collections: Twelvetide Drabbles 2020





	1. Violet

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place several years before Jo and Zoe's wedding in the 25 Ways 'verse ([The Way You Wear Your Hat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/928084)). Zoe Carter is now in college and she and Jo have been in eachothers' back pockets since forever but are finally doing something more concrete about it which is exciting and terrifying and good. Mostly good.
> 
> Thank you for your patience as life derailed the final chapter of this drabble series. It is now complete.

Snow falls thick and fast on the beach outside the curtained windows of their room: the Alice Walker. The hotel's resident tabby sleeps at the center of the rich purple bedspread.

"One bed," Zoe jokes, dropping her backpack by the bureau."What do!" She rubs her arms and shivers, buzzing with the novelty of checking in _as a couple_

"Mmm," Jo murmurs, coming up behind to wrap Zoe in warmth. "Whatever you want for the next two weeks."

Zoe exhales -- a release -- as Jo nuzzles, then kisses, the side of her neck. "Whatever _we_ want," she corrects, pulling Jo closer.


	2. Slate

They wake to a blue-grey sky still heavy with snow. At the communal breakfast table there are only two other women: An elderly couple, finishing the crossword over coffee and marmalade toast.

"Always quiet here on Christmas," one observes, writing in ING at the end of a downward LONG ___. "And the people who do come, it's always the dykes."

"Now Doris," the other woman puts a hand on her lover's wrist. "You know the young ones don't always appreciate that word."

"Well," Doris mutters. "Margaret and I are at any rate."

"Oh, us too," Jo says, squeezing Zoe's hand.


	3. Crimson

“Look --” Zoe holds up a tattered paperback.“ ‘...a young singer who offered herself to a woman for a chance at stardom’! Are we doing it wrong, not lounging around in crimson armchairs in lacey lingerie?” 

Jo snorts, pulling another pulp from the bookshop’s overstuffed shelves: “Or a crimson negligee? This one’s titled ‘21 Gay Street’ if you failed to grasp the subtext.” She turns the cover to Zoe: “Or is this just ...  _ text _ ?” 

Zoe holds up another: “These women are many things, but ‘confused’ they are not.” 

Jo laughs, the warmth of shared understanding. “Nope, not the least bit confused.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Images all pulled from this Tumblr post at [Secret Lesbians](https://secretlesbians.tumblr.com/post/154985649806/lesbian-pulp-covers-from-the-50s-and-60s-see-more).


	4. Tangerine

Zoe peels the tangerine, fragrant in her fingers, and leans in -- close, careless -- to feed it, piece by piece, to Jo with a punctuation of kisses. Kneeling over Jo she revels in the ease of being  _ allowed _ : to touch, to kiss, to crowd Jo against the pillows, to feel Jo solidly  _ there  _ between her thighs. Jo’s hands rest, light and steadying, on Zoe’s hips as she sucks juice from Zoe’s fingers, then mouths  _ yes  _ with the tang of citrus down Zoe’s throat, collarbone, swell of breast, areola, nipple.  _ Yes  _ as she pulls Zoe down beneath the bedclothes skin to skin. 


	5. Chocolate

On the fifth day, sleet blows in off the ocean in icy sheets. After breakfast, they retreat to the third floor library, where scattered guests sit in the depths of well-worn armchairs that face the bank of windows overlooking the forbidding Pacific. They wear thick sweaters, and have fleece blankets across their knees as they read Dorothy Sayers, Agatha Christie, or Rita Mae Brown. Jo makes Ghirardelli cocoa at the sideboard and settles, with her slippered feet in Zoe’s lap, to read  _ Little Wolf  _ while Zoe crochets granny squares for an epic rainbow afghan she’s begun to call her trousseau.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [_Little Wolf_](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/51456296-little-wolf) is a paranormal m/m romance by R. Cooper. 
> 
> This is [the epic rainbow afghan](https://frabjousfibers.com/product/holographic_blanket/) I picture Zoe crocheting.


	6. Emerald

On a table in the library, someone -- or a succession of someones -- has begun a 2000-piece puzzle of the Emerald City from  _ The Wizard of Oz _ . Doris sits with a cup of black coffee working on a stubborn corner. She looks up when Jo wanders over. 

“Join me,” she says, gesturing at the scatterplot of green. “See if you can make more headway on this blasted thing than I can.”

Jo takes a seat and pokes at the pieces, placing the edge of a turret here, the top of a flagpole there. Outside the winter storm continues its eerie howl. 


	7. Obsidian

Jo wakes from the nightmare gasping, unable -- as Zoe skims hands down her shoulders, voice a soft, steady stream of nonsense syllables -- to recall details beyond the creeping tendrils of obsidian blackness closing around her: suffocating, paralyzing.

She lays in the mundane darkness of their room, listening to her breath: harsh beneath Zoe's litany of  _ just a dream I'm here it's okay you're awake it's okay just a dream I've got you _ . Feels her pulse slow from its panicked staccato.

She brings her hand up to clasp Zoe's to her beastbone: "Yes," a grateful sigh.. "You've got me. I'm here."


	8. Lemon

On New Year’s Eve they lounge in the clawfoot bathtub with whiskey sours in damp hands. Steam clings to the window, and mirror, and their exposed skin, replenished each time Zoe turns the hot water tap with a sudsy foot. 

“Mmm,” Zoe murmurs, rolling her head back against Jo’s collarbone, reaching up to push fingers into Jo’s loose, damp hair. “Remember last New Year’s when I kept you company at the station?” 

They had played Parcheesi and made cocoa on the office hot plate. There had been no orgasms, or even kissing. “I like this year better,” Jo murmurs back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Lemon is an ingredient in whiskey sours.)


	9. Lilac

The scent of the lilac bubble bath lingers in the air as they towel dry, wrapping one another in fleece and flannel, for a mad post-midnight dash from bath to bed. Beneath the bedclothes the promise of spring clings to their skin as they spoon close for warmth and because they deserve this, each night, hour upon hour of time filled with a surfeit of touch. They had reasons for waiting, and in daylight without the blur of whiskey both Jo and Zoe will agree the reasons were valid but oh do they have nights to make up for now. 


	10. Ochre

“You should never wear any other color,” Zoe declares, sliding a distracting touch of fingers over Jo’s wrist. They’re at a tiny table for two, eating sushi; the restaurant lights an intimate glow.

"What? No." Jo flushes, mostly from pleasure and a sliver of lingering fear at being noticed in the particular way Zoe  _ notices _ her. 

"Ochre," Zoe plucks at the edge of Jo's shawl. "It calls out the gold in your eyes."

Jo opens her mouth, closes it, looks down at the pale fingers against her skin. The hand of a woman who believed she was worth waiting for.


	11. Silver

“Come inside,” Jo says, tugging at Zoe’s hand. It’s clear and cold, getting colder by the minute, out on the balcony. The low-hanging moon shines silver in a sky dusted with stars, beckoning the outgoing tide. 

“Just a bit longer,” Zoe murmurs, tugging back, drawing Jo's hand into the warmth of the blanket she’s wrapped around her shoulders. For one brief moment Jo hears the teenager she first met, feels her sliding beneath the surface like a ripple of moonlight in the ocean waves: shimmering briefly, then folded back into depths made up of refracted light and so much more.


	12. Turquoise

Jo runs fingers through turquoise strands that fade to purple, then pink, making Zoe's hair fan out on their pillows like a waterfall of pride.

"Braid it for me?" Zoe asks, pushing up on one elbow. 

Jo hasn't braided another person's hair since basic training. That hadn't been the intimacy of this: the weaving motions of  _ over under over _ all while aware of her own scent on Zoe's skin, the way Zoe was clad in an oversize hoodie and nothing more,  _ under over under _ , until all that's left is a magenta curl to secure at Zoe's nape with a kiss.


	13. Gold

“My grandmother’s,” Zoe says, flexing her fingers so that the gold band catches the light from the bedside lamp. “Her engagement ring. Mom gave it to me when she passed. The wedding ring is mine, too. In a safe deposit box somewhere, but --” 

“ ‘But’ what?” Jo prompts, catching Zoe’s hand to kiss the tips of each finger. 

“--I’d rather we do something entirely our own, you know?” Zoe finishes the thought, leaning in, inching nearer with every caress of Jo’s lips. Jo slides her hand up Zoe’s arm from wrist to elbow, elbow to shoulder, drawing her in for more. 


	14. Rose

The morning of their departure, Jo wakes as the sun reaches its first pale, rose-colored fingers across the sky. _Sailors take warning ..._ she thinks, sleepily, as she settles herself more firmly into the curve of Zoe’s body where Zoe has washed up against Jo’s spine, ass, the backs of her thighs in sleep. Soon, they’ll get up and shower, and dress, eat brunch and pack the car. Meanwhile: _This._ Jo thinks -- deep and sure like the twist and press of fingers -- _This is where I’m meant to be._ Zoe, sliding a sleep-warm hand down over Jo’s hip, seems to agree.

**Author's Note:**

> The Sylvia Beach Hotel is a real place at which I have stayed and [they do have an Alice Walker room](http://sylviabeachhotel.com/alice-walker/). And also a resident cat.


End file.
